Letters from Japan Part 1: An Overview and Bumpy Beginning

“If you want to go fast, go alone; if you want to go far, go together.” – African proverb that speaks to the value of community for long journeys. 

“If you want to go at all… and get there, make sure your flight leaves on time.” – me

After decades of solo globe-trotting – first as a child on trains and later as a travel journalist navigating every imaginable mode of transportation – my priorities have changed. These days, I’m less interested in five-star resorts than in comfortable apartment rentals where I can stay long enough to absorb a culture beyond a whirlwind “if it’s Tuesday, it must be Tokyo” itinerary. More than anything, I now prefer traveling to places where I can spend time with people I love – and who hopefully love me in return.

I finally decided to visit Japan, a country that had long fascinated me, because one of my fairy godchildren, Alpha – the daughter of my best friend from kindergarten, a gifted artist whose life ended tragically – had been accepted into a master’s program in Tokyo. It felt like the perfect excuse to finally experience the Land of the Rising Sun. To my delight, my first fairy goddaughter, Olivia, a London-raised, Barcelona-based acupuncturist and mother of two teenagers, decided to join me. I was thrilled not only to explore Japan with these two remarkable women, but also to see them meet for the first time.

I hadn’t planned for my first – and perhaps not last – trip to Japan to coincide with cherry blossom season. It happened purely by chance. Even better, I hoped the Shinto gods, Buddha, and every other benevolent deity might smile upon me and allow me to visit my dear friend and pen pal, the celebrated author Pico Iyer, and his wife Hiroko, in their hometown of Nara. I also longed to feed the sacred deer roaming Nara Park, considered messengers of the gods.

Planning the trip, however, was far from serene. I spent weeks juggling recommendations from friends, advice from colleagues, endless online searches, and more than a little guesswork. Eventually, exhausted and second-guessing my decisions, I enlisted the help of Audley Travel, whose expertise proved invaluable – and taught me at least one very expensive lesson.

My itinerary seemed straightforward enough: Santa Barbara to San Francisco, then a Japan Airlines flight to Tokyo, arriving on St. Patrick’s Day. I planned two nights in Tokyo to recover from jet lag before heading with Olivia to a traditional onsen. Afterward, we would return briefly to Tokyo, then take the bullet train to Kyoto for a week while Alpha settled into school and apartment hunting. The final leg of the trip would bring me back to Tokyo to spend more time with her. Over two weeks, I stayed in seven hotels and one Airbnb – not exactly restful, but there was much to see.

Lift-off – Delayed!

My United flight from Santa Barbara to San Francisco was delayed by five hours, causing me to miss my Japan Airlines connection booked with miles. Worse, there were no replacement flights that same day. I lost not only my flight, but also a hotel night and a tour in Tokyo. When I called Allianz travel insurance, the sympathetic representative explained that only delays of six hours or more qualified for reimbursement. Mine missed the cut off by less than one hour.

The next day’s available flights ranged from $3,000 to $6,000. Reluctant but cornered, I booked a $3,000 United flight out of LAX – the very airline responsible for the original delay. Waiting several more days wasn’t realistic; Olivia and Alpha were expecting me, hotels were booked, and plans were already in motion. Grimacing, I entered my credit card information and hit “send.”

United later compensated me with 2,500 airline miles – roughly the equivalent of thirty dollars. I was not impressed.

Still, there were moments of grace. The ANA staff at LAX were warm and efficient, and access to the Star Alliance Lounge softened the blow. There, amid a breakfast buffet and noodle bar, a bartender prepared restorative shots of lemon, honey, ginger, turmeric, and black pepper – exactly what I needed while recovering from a lingering cold.

The eleven-hour flight itself was smooth. Arrival in Tokyo, however, was another story. Customs lines twisted endlessly through the terminal as passengers shuffled through forms, fingerprint scans, photographs, and passport checks before finally emerging into the city. At last, I was greeted by Yoshi, my cheerful greeter who led me to my driver into Tokyo.

In many ways, the entire trip felt like a magical mystery tour. I knew surprisingly little about Japan beyond my appreciation for its cuisine, design aesthetic, and their love of American jazz. My planning often felt as bewildering as Tokyo Station itself, whose tangled corridors and cryptic signage resembled what my photographer friend Brent Winebrenner described as “bowls of spaghetti.” I corrected him: “More like spicy ramen.”

Despite the logistical chaos, the journey became one of the most memorable trips of my life. Along the way, I searched for traces of my father’s military service in Occupied Japan after World War II, explored ancient traditions alongside futuristic cityscapes, and deepened connections with people I cherish.

Travel, I’ve learned, is rarely seamless. Flights are delayed, plans unravel, airline meals disappoint, and exhaustion inevitably sets in. Yet my philosophy remains unchanged: if you arrive safely at your destination, the journey is worth the trip.

Sitting in airports, I often think about stagecoach travelers rattling across rough terrain or my ancestors enduring dangerous ocean crossings to reach America before continuing westward to California. Compared with those journeys, modern travel inconveniences seem manageable.

And despite all the hassles, disappointments, and unexpected expenses, I still believe travel is worth it.